


Coffee Shop Drawings

by rwdaf



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Phan - Freeform, Phandom Reverse Bang, Phandom Reverse Bang 2017, artist!Phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 08:59:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12837780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rwdaf/pseuds/rwdaf
Summary: Going to the same small and vintage coffee shop each day, Phil didn't think much of it. He goes there everyday and orders his drink as usual and sits in the corner and draws. However, one day a boy with brown hair and shimmering eyes walks in and steals Phil's breath away, quite literally as well. Taking it upon himself as an artist to draw beautiful things, Phil starts to sketch him, while he doesn't know. One day as Phil rushes out in a hurry, he leaves his sketchbook behind and Dan notices.





	Coffee Shop Drawings

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh I've had so much fun writing this!! As soon as I saw the outline for this, I knew that I had to write it, the opportunity was to perfect to let pass. A big thank you to @laura-sketches (tumblr) for this wonderful au she created and to @sparkle129 (tumblr) for being the beta for this! So without further ado, I present to you my fic for the Phandom Reverse Bang 2017. 
> 
> Click here to see Laura's [amazing art](http://laura-sketches.tumblr.com/post/167926770560/heres-my-art-for-this-years-phandom-reverse) for this!

Phil was an artist, there was no doubt about that. His flat had pictures that he painted along the walls, sketchbooks were littered everywhere, some filled completely others only a few drawings, markers and pens and colored pencils were scattered randomly about. The aroma of paint fumes was always faintly there mixed in with paint thinner for when he used oil paints. In the room in the back of the flat, which he considered to be his studio, always had an interesting mixture of smells. There was the ashy smell of charcoal pencils he loved for some reason unbeknownst to him, fresh paper and canvases lingered in the air never seeming to fade.

He had aspirations to be an artist ever since he was young. He had spent hours upon hours locked away in his room hunched over the small desk in the corner, frantically practicing over and over, trying to perfect his own technique and style. He would spend hours drawing and painting the same things over and over until he got the talent he wished to have. When he was trying to perfect drawing with graphite and charcoal pencils, at first he didn’t know to put a piece of paper down so it didn’t smudge. He would always lift his hand up and see the grey and black from the lead smeared on his hand and his work ruined. Phil would simply groan in frustration, and toss his project onto what he called his “failed attempts” pile before starting again.

His parents were proud of him nonetheless. They were astonished with their son and the abilities that he had. After he had graduated from uni and moved into his flat, they surprised him and bought him all the supplies in his studio. Now here he was, 22 at the prime of his life it seemed. He was happy, he was doing what he wanted. He created a website for his art, selling prints every day, working on commissions as well.

He stayed up late into the night all the time with soft music playing around him as he painted. There were hardly any distractions other than the occasional car driving by or animals communicating with each other as he put it.

-

Rays of light beamed through the curtains as the sun slowly rose over Manchester. As the city came to life, birds were starting to chirp, animals were either waking up or going to sleep, people around the city were stirring from their own slumber, cars and buses were running now as well. Phil groaned as he rolled over, blindly reaching out to grab his phone as the alarm on it started to go off. He slammed his hand down on the nightstand beside him, silencing the noise. Rubbing his eyes, he pulled the covers back over his head, silencing the world once again.

He didn’t have much to do today other than work on a commission he has. A lady had seen his paintings, she called them marvelous and the most beautiful thing that her eyes had laid upon. She had reached out to him a few days later and asked if he could paint a picture of her and her wife holding their newborn child together. It warmed his heart and made him feel fuzzy inside. He wanted that one day, but he would have a husband instead of a wife. It excited him to no end. He couldn’t wait to lay around all day, drawing pictures with his children, teaching them if they wanted. The long nights that he would spend with them when his kids are babies, hopefully with his husband right along beside him. He had it engraved in his mind already, smiling like an idiot whenever he thought about it.

After what seemed like an eternity of showering, Phil was finally dressed and felt more refreshed than he previously had. He had a deep maroon beanie on despite the fact his black hair kept falling annoyingly in front of his glasses. He had a deep red unbuttoned flannel on, underneath was a white shirt. As he scrambled about his flat, looking for the pencils and sketchbook he misplaced the night before, he found it was becoming more and more difficult as his black jeans stuck to his legs.

“Ugh, where the heck did I put those?” He grumbled, digging under the cushions on his sofa, pulling the furniture out to search behind it. He hated when this happened. He would work late into the night, sometimes just drawing for fun really, but the next day he would forget where he put things. Sometimes, from the drowsiness, he would put them in strange places; hence the refrigerator. It had him quite literally falling to the floor the next morning, clutching his sides in pain as he laughed his head off.

As time passed his flat was almost turned inside out. Everything was a mess and luckily enough he had his sketchbook in hand, with the pencils strewn about in the bag that was tossed over his shoulder. Deciding to clean it up later, Phil grabbed his keys and headed out.

He smiled to himself as he headed down the busy streets of Manchester. The sun peaked through the clouds, casting rays of warmth down onto the world. Phil loved the way it felt on his back, in his mind it was almost like someone was shining down on him, watching proudly. He enjoyed the feeling and didn’t want that to leave.

-

About a mile down the road from his house was a small coffee shop on the corner. The building was small but it had a very homey atmosphere that everyone enjoyed. People were always stopping along to look in the window at the displays they had. What usually had caught people’s eyes, like it did with Phil’s, was the way the inside seemed like home. Fairy lights were strung everywhere, there were a few couches around so people could be homey. It was almost vintage too, guitars hung on the walls along with vinyls. Phil had been going there everyday for a while now, and it always calmed him. The employees there didn’t mind him being there for hours, since they had all grown attached to him and his art. He always drew things from the coffee shop. Whether it simply be his cup of coffee, the signs/menus or tables and chairs; most of the time he drew people he saw sat about. He liked to capture the moments, drawing them when they looked the most comfortable.

The melody the chimes played when the door opened went off and Phil stepped inside. Stopping in his tracks, sitting at the table in the back was someone he had never seen before, but also  _the most gorgeous_  person he had ever seen. His heart dropped to his stomach and his palms started sweating. Butterflies erupted in him, and he felt fuzzy all over, and he hadn’t even talked to the mystery boy yet. He wasn’t sure if he could talk to him. He’d probably stumble over his words, making an utter fool of himself.

It pulled him in with his five minutes of staring from afar, they had almost the exact same kind of hairstyle. While Phil’s was pitch black with mousy brown roots shining through and a bit longer, his was this deep, natural dark caramel brown, with his fringe going to the opposite direction. Taking another quick glance, Phil noticed how there was a slight curly wave to his hair; it was almost unnoticeable. Rays of light that beamed in through the window reflected off his olive skin, giving him a natural glow.

As an artist, Phil tended to notice small details that people would usually just skip over. He noticed how this mystery boy’s eyes flickered rather quickly over the pages of the book he seemed wrapped up in. He noticed how every few seconds he would tap his finger on the table or the rim of the glass he had. Phil also noted how his brows knitted together, and stayed like that for minutes on end.

“Phillll?” Audrey, the cashier behind the counter, who was also pretty close to Phil, sang, pulling him out of the trance he was wrapped in. Phil jerked his head towards her, stumbling forward, his bag nearly falling off his shoulders.

Audrey flashed a smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling up as she shook her head, “You’ve been standing there for about ten minutes now. What’s up?”

“Uh, who - who is that?” Phil muttered quietly, afraid someone would hear him, his eyes scanning over to the mystery boy.

“The cute one with brown hair?” She teased him, a rose blush creeping up his neck. Scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, he muttered a small ‘yeah’. “I’m not sure, I’ve never seen him around here before. But be careful, you’ll get caught staring in your trance.”

“Shut up,” Phil mumbled, the blush on his cheeks more dominant than it was before.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Usual?” She asked, as customers behind Phil started to clear their throats aggravated.

“Um yeah.” Digging into his pocket, he fished around and pulled out and pulled out just enough for his order, tossing it onto the counter. He watched as Audrey walked back to make his drink. His eyes kept shifting over to the mystery boy, his stomach erupting in butterflies each time. He knew it wasn’t polite to stare but he couldn’t help it. The boy was the most beautiful person that he had ever seen.

The palms of his hands were clammy as he smiled at Audrey who handed him his drink. The warmth of the coffee spread from the cup to his hands, warming them up. Walking to his usual spot located in the back, where hardly anyone sat. He enjoyed sitting back there, it gave him time to work on some of his more simple pencil drawings. Whether it be simply the cafe, or a picture he found, he would sit there for hours to finish them.

He found the desire to find a new muse. Something that he could draw and cherish the beauty deep inside. Eyes scanning the room, he landed up the mystery boy. He had the perfect view of him, the perfect angle. Digging through his bag quickly, he grabbed his pencils and sketchbook, flipping to the next fresh sheet.

Flickering his eyes back over, he started to sketch the outline of the brown haired beauty. Phil decided to start with the curls of his hair. Carefully shading in the shadows, he started drawing in the lines of his hair, delicately defining the strands of his hair that would fall in front of his eyes, as his head was tilted down, nose buried deep in his book.

Phil’s tongue poked through his teeth as he concentrated, determined to create this piece of work to the best of his abilities. He wasn’t sure if he could capture such beauty in his art, his he could surely try. As Phil still carefully worked on the fine details of his hair, the mystery boy stood up, stretching.

 _Please don’t be leaving,_ Phil thought, with an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Phil watched afar from the corner as he went and threw his drink away, gathering his things up. Laying his head on the cool surface, Phil cursed internally at himself.  Without him here, there was no way he would be able to capture the beauty that was in this boy. His heart fluttered at that, skipping a beat simply thinking at the fact this boy was the definition of beauty.

 _Tomorrow._ Phil thought,  _I’ll get here a bit earlier than usual. Hopefully, he’s here._

-

Flipping through his sketchbook, Phil stopped on the unfinished drawing of the mystery boy from the coffee shop. His heart fluttered again, just thinking about it. He still didn’t understand how someone could be absolutely so beautiful in nearly every way possible? He also didn’t get how, after only seeing this boy once in his entire life, knowing absolutely nothing about him, he was still on his mind. Being an artist just made him appreciate beautiful things, he guessed.

The sun was setting, the sky was nothing more than different shades of pink, orange, and purple. Staring out the window, Phil was trying to bask in the beauty of it, and let his mind relax so hopefully, he could get enough sleep to be up early enough in the morning, but somehow his mind kept running back to the boy, whose name he desperately wished he knew at least. Maybe then his nerves would be put at ease for just a bit.

-

Sighing, Phil looked in the mirror, and rubbed his eyes. He decided that he would leave early to be at the coffee shop and hopefully get there when it opened. However he wasn’t always the best morning person, especially since he hadn’t slept the greatest. All night, he tossed and he turned with one thing on his mind,  _him._ He didn’t understand why he thos boy didn’t leave his mind. It was as if every few minutes, he was popping into his head.

He was even in his mind, as he chose what he was gonna wear for the day. Although he just settled for black skinny jeans that were ripped at the knees and worn down and a pale pink hoodie, in the back of his mind, he wondered what  _he_  would think if he noticed him. Running his fingers through his hair and yawning again, he went and grabbed his bag off the sofa. Deciding on being smart about this, he made sure his bag was ready the night before, that way he wasn’t searching for twenty minutes for everything again, as he did daily.

Making sure his door was locked behind him, as he had a tendency to sometimes leave it unlocked, he made his way down the many flights of stairs in the apartment complex he lived in.  _Next place,_ he thought to himself,  _make sure there’s no stairs._

Grey clouds covered the blue sky, making the world a gloomy place. Yet still, Phil had a reason to smile; the boy he didn’t know. The boy he saw once, and didn’t say a word to. The boy whose brown eyes he saw, each time he closed his own. They held swirls of chocolate and caramel and made you fall in love when then wherever you saw them, and Phil was starstruck.

Making his way through the empty streets, he saw the old coffee shop that he goes to daily. It was like his second home at this point, everyone who worked there loved him, so his presence never bothered anybody. The chiming of the bells as he opened the door was like music to his ears at this point. Audrey was standing behind the counter already, cleaning the counters when she looked up and smiled at Phil.

“Usual I’m assuming?” She asked as Phil took his things to the back where he usually sat, hoping the boy would sit in the same spot he did the previous day.

“Yeah,” Phil said rubbing his eyes and yawning, “Just maybe a bit more espresso this time.”

“Rough night?” Audrey inquired as she started to gather the things to make his drink.

“Quite the opposite actually,” Phil chuckled, walking over the counter and sitting at the bar. Raising her eyebrow, Audrey just gave him a look that screamed ‘explain’. Sighing, Phil rubbed his eyes once more and looked at him, “No matter how much I tried, he ran through my mind. I tossed and turned, but I was in bliss. God, and I’ve only seen him once in my life.”

“Speaking of your hunk,” Audrey started, handing him his drink when the door chimed. “There he is now.”

Looking up, Phil’s breath hitched and he froze in place. Somehow this boy managed to look even more beautiful than the day before. His hair was different than before, instead of the straight hair, with a slight wave to it, it was a mess of voluminous curls and waves that deemed him well. Atop his head was a pale, mint green beanie that seemed to bring out his curls more than ever, especially the one that curled off and was the most out there in front of his forehead. The fairy lights that hang and travel round the shop, illuminate his skin sending off an iridescent glow.

He was wearing a loose fitting grey t-shirt that hung off him in just the right way. Phil noticed how there were different shades of grey in the pattern to create one shade that you had to look twice at to notice. White jeans with slits in the knees hugged his legs snuggly. Slung over his shoulder was a black bag with what looked to be white paint splatters on it.

Sneaking glances as Phil sat at the bar drinking his drink, he watched him walk up to the counter. Audrey looked towards Phil and smirked before walking back up to the counter to take his order.

“Can I get a toasted white chocolate mocha?” he asked. Phil’s heart did a hundred flips per beat and his stomach erupted in something that he couldn’t describe.  _His_ voice was something that he couldn’t describe.  _Mellifluous_  maybe. Soft and sweet, like a babbling brook that sings a song that no one can understand. His voice was softly spoken and harmonic to Phil’s ears.

Standing abruptly, Phil rushed back to his seat in the far corner, where he sat alone. Times like this made him glad that he sat back here by himself, because then, no one could see the rosy tones that invaded his cheeks. It blended nicely in contrast with his pale skin. Looking up, Phil saw the boy still talking to Audrey and smiling.

 _Oh god_ , Phil thought,  _his smile. It’s - oh god._ He was at a loss for words. It physically took his breath away. The way his eyes and nose crinkled, the way the dimple embedded in his cheek popped out, just everything that was him. Was it odd that Phil was physically out of breath after seeing this boy for the second time? Probably, but he didn’t care. All he could do was watch from afar, unless he could work up the nerve to just say hi. For now though, he’ll deal with secretly drawing him from the corner of the room.

In his mind, Phil knew how weird that was. He knew just staring at someone, and drawing them was considered strange, but he couldn’t help it. As an artist he felt it was his need to draw beautiful things. So he did, this person, just happened to be the most beautiful person he’d ever lay eyes on.

Pulling out his sketchbook, just as he did the day before; Phil flipped to a new page as the boy sat down at the same table. Unlike the day before, this time, he pulled a laptop out of the bag and started typing away. Phil could see the concentration that covered his face as his fingers danced on the keyboard, almost like the way Phil’s hands danced on a canvas when he was painting something.

He started quickly sketching an outline. He wasn’t going to try and create a scene in his head, like he did sometimes, but instead he’d rather draw what he was seeing. So he settled for drawing the boy as he concentrated and typed away, with the background of the rainy streets of Manchester as the background. The fairy lights that went round the room gave him a sparkling look that Phil could only describe as a scintillating diamond necklace.

Over the years and with a lot of practice, Phil learned to sketch outlines quickly, which in the end saves him a lot of time with things, especially when he’s under a time limit like this one. He started to carefully add details to his hair, carefully drawing each curl with precise care and skill. He wanted this to be as perfect as he could make it. Knowing he wasn’t perfect didn’t stop him, he just made it the best that he could to his standards.

He made sure to include the glow from his laptop and minor details that someone wouldn’t wouldn’t notice unless they looked twice. Even the smallest details could make the biggest differences in his eyes. Flickering his eyes back up, he scanned the boy and started to work on him himself, starting with his shirt. He made sure to include the details of his shirt to create the pattern.

Keeping his concentration, Phil continued to draw out his character and the surrounding setting that was him. He didn’t notice the minutes that passed until nearly an hour and a half had gone by. Watching him pack his things away, Phil sighed.  _Until tomorrow._

-

Days passed and those turned into weeks. Weeks passed and eventually, a month did. Then another, all the while Phil is still hoping and chasing after the boy who doesn’t know he even exists. He’s learned a few things over the time, from Audrey of course. He learned the brown eyed angel’s name is Dan. It suited him well and Phil loved it. It put another piece of the mystery of who  _Dan_ is together.

Sitting in the back once again, Phil was working on another drawing of Dan, hoping one day he can figure a way to talk to him. He could simply walk up to him, but he was to nervous. It wracked his brain, hurt his heart even that he couldn’t talk to him.

As he worked on his most recent drawing of him, his phone started going off on the table.

Answering it quickly, Phil forgot about his drawing. “Hey mum.”

“You didn’t forget your father and I were coming did you?”

Phil’s eyes widened and he froze slightly. He  _had_ forgotten about that. He always spent the day before cleaning, seeing as he hates his flat being a mess when he had guests over.

“Phil? You still there?” His mum broke the silence.

“Yeah yeah sorry uh no I didn’t forget. What time will you guys be here by?”

“Noon dear.” His mum answered and Phil quickly checked the time.  _9:50._ It gave him just about two hours to clean everything.

“Yeah okay, that works. See you then.” Phil rushed out and hung up.

In one swift move, he put everything back into his bag, leaving money on the table as a tip for Audrey, he rushed out of the coffee shop and ran down the streets of Manchester.

-

Dan looked over watching the raven haired beauty rush around and run out. Furrowing his brow, Dan noticed he left something on the table.

 _Don’t mess with his things._ Dan thought to himself, running his hand through his curls.  _It’s rude and an invasion to his privacy._

On one hand, Dan could finally get to see whatever it is he had been doing every day he was here. His nose was always pointed down and his hands never sat still. It took a bit for Dan to notice this, but when he did, his interest peaked. He had no idea, how this guy with raven hair and icy blue eyes, was always alone in the back corner.

Standing up and stretching, Dan walked back to his table and picked up the book. Much to his surprise it was a sketchbook.  _Interesting,_ Dan thought. But what was inside was what the real surprise was.

Flipping to the first page, Dan’s eyes widen. It was him, unfinished, but still the most incredible piece of art Dan had ever laid eyes upon. He remembers this day, it was his first day in Manchester after he moved here with nothing. Taking online classes to graduate took up most of his time, so he didn’t notice much around him. Luckily this coffee shop was right down the road from him, so at least he could go somewhere and do school work, instead of being stuck inside his flat all day long.

Page after page was nothing but drawings of himself. All were done with precise detail, finished or not. Looking carefully, Dan noticed the fine details that were hard for even him to notice, but beautiful nonetheless.

 _I wonder how long these took him._ Dan wondered. Sitting down, he kept looking through them. All were pencil drawings, none had color, but they didn’t need that. They showed passion and soul without it.

While no one was looking, Dan took the sketchbook back to his seat, and placed it in his bag.  _Looks like I’ll finally get to talk to him._

-

The moon was rising over Manchester as Phil finally bid farewell to his parents. He loved to see them, don’t get that confused, it just wore him out having guests, leaving him exhausted by night fall. Grabbing his book bag from the lounge, Phil headed to his room so he could work on his latest drawing of him. He thought today was one of his best drawings and he wanted to finish it no matter what.

Tossing his bag onto the bed, his heart sunk as he emptied it.  _No, no, no, no. Where is it?_ The book that held the many drawings he’s been working on wasn’t there. Shaking his bag out onto the bed, his heart started to race. It just wasn’t there.

-

Rubbing his eyes, Phil walked down the streets of Manchester to the coffee shop. He hadn’t slept much last night, in result of losing his sketchbook. To some it may seem strange, it’s  _just_ a sketchbook to them, something that could be replaced. But to Phil, it was one of his prized possessions, something that he spent hours upon hours working on. That was something that he couldn’t get back, no matter how hard he tried. No two pieces he created would ever be the same; so if he were to redraw all his pictures of  _him,_ they would be half as well as the others in his eyes.

Ordering his drink, Audrey noticed something was off. Phil wasn’t his cheery and worried self as he entered. Deciding not to push it, she just made his drink and watched him sulk back to his usual seat. Sliding into the booth, Phil stared out the window, without any sort of emotion on his face. His eyes were simply glossed over, as if tears were forming. Audrey frowned watching him. She had noticed that he didn’t even bother to dress how he usually did in a button up and skinny jeans; this time he just had on a pair of black joggers and a black hoodie. It wasn’t Phil.

Staring out the window, Phil didn’t hear the door chime as it opened and he didn’t notice it was Dan. His mind was far away at the moment, and he didn’t know when it would be back.

Dan noticed the sudden change in the atmosphere once he walked in. He looked over and saw Phil sitting there, staring blankly out the window before laying his head on the table. Frowning as well, he quickly ordered his now usual and walked over and slid into the booth across from him.

Phil still didn’t lift his head so Dan, being the cheeky person he is cleared his throat. “Hey, how was heaven when you left it?”

Phil’s head shot up as he jumped slightly, his eyes widened slightly and he raised his brow as Dan chuckled awkwardly, “Sorry, I uh - I didn’t mean to scare you.” Dan gave Phil a soft smile, as he seemed to be at a loss for words.

Phil’s heart was pounding as if it was going to burst through his chest.  _Oh god, say something, don’t just stare at him._ Phil thought to himself. Easier said than done however. The boy he has been hopelessly chasing after and crushing on for what seemed like forever was here and in front of him.

“It’s al-alright,” he stuttered and mentally face palmed himself. Meeting his eyes, Phil noticed the swirls more clearly than he had ever before. He noticed freckles on his face that were too small for him to notice from far away.

Taking a drink, Dan smiled before a light bulb lit above his head.  

“Here, I have something for you.” Digging into his bag, he pulled out the sketchbook Phil left the day before. His heart warmed when he saw the biggest grin plastered on his face.

“Where did you find this?!” Phil asked, taking it from him before his face fell. “Wait, did you look in here?” Worry filled his voice and a look of panic flooded onto his face.

“I did... “ Dan started, noticing the way Phil’s face fell and looked ashamed, embarrassed even. “Don’t worry though, I found it very honoring. I’ve never been drawn before, especially by someone with true talent.”

“I draw beautiful things,” Phil told him nonchalantly this time. It was Dan’s turn to stutter and make a fool of himself, as the blush crawled up his neck and onto his cheeks. Just like Phil’s palms, his own were sweating and he was slightly shaking.

Neither really knew what to say. They had both been watching each other from afar and now that they were here, they were at a loss. Phil, was incredibly nervous and embarrassed. He had spent so long drawing him from the corner, and that was what brought them together. But, it made Phil look like a stalker, a creep almost, although Dan said he was flattered. He worried he was just lying to make Phil feel better about this.

Breaking the silence and heavy tension between the two, Dan was the first one to speak. “So you think I’m beautiful?”

“Not all angels have wings, I suppose.” Phil smirked slightly, and chuckled, his nerves somewhat more calm. He was still nervous, he was talking to Dan for the first time no less. Who was somehow a literal walking angel. “My name’s Phil by the way. I should probably say that shouldn’t I?”

“Dan.” He smiled back. “So, I’m curious, what prompted you to draw me so much?”

Sighing, Phil took a drink and looked at him. “Well, the first day that I noticed you here, I froze in place. Quite literally too. I stared at you for maybe five minutes? It was weird, I’m surprised you didn’t notice. But besides that, you were, and still are, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I had to do something, because I was too scared to just walk over and say hi. So instead I sat here drawing you and noticing small details about you. And that sounds even weirder now that I say it out loud oh god.”

Dan laughed, blushed again, and looked down smiling, his dimple popping out of place. “Okay Mr. Artist,” Dan raised his eyebrow seductively, “What small details have you noticed?”

“When you read, you scan the pages quickly, almost as if you’re just skimming the words rathering than actually reading each one. Yet, you seem so interested and intertwined with whatever it is. You tap your fingers off the table a lot, or the rim of your glass.”

“Impressive, I must admit Phil.” Dan nodded and looked at him. He was impressed, no one had ever really noticed the small details he didn’t know he did unless he thought about it. “But you didn’t answer my question.” Phil raised his eyebrow and took one more sip of his drink. “How was heaven when you left it?”

As Phil started laughing, Dan noticed he poked his tongue through his teeth, whether it was intentional or not, it was still adorable. Dan’s heart was doing loop de loops while butterflies danced in his stomach.

“I didn’t come from heaven,” Phil told him, “I crawled from the firing pits of hell for you, as it was too hot for me there. But the heat is unbearable with you across from me.”

Choking on his drink, Dan stared at him raising his eyebrow.  _Puns,_ he thought,  _okay, well two can play at that game remember that Philly._

Dan stared at Phil as he talked. He, just as Phil, was starstruck and wondered how the other was so beautiful. He also wondered why it was just now, that they had finally struck up a conversation. “You’re staring.”

“Well then something must be wrong with my eyes,” Dan said, hints of a more serious tone laced his voice, but happiness overlapped it. “Because you see, I can’t seem to take them off of you.”

-

For the next hour that’s how things went. The two got to know somethings about each other that they didn’t, and never thought they would. Phil learned that Dan was in his second year of university and he just turned 19 during the summer. He also learned that he wanted to write books for a living one day and that he had a strange love for vintage items. Dan learned about how Phil had been drawing from such a young age and that he never went to university. However, Dan did most of the talking as Phil had rathered watch and listen to him.

“So,” Dan said standing up and looking at Phil. “Will there be a second date?”

“Second?”

“This could be considered a date,” Dan smiled lightly, “that’s if you want it to be.”

“I’d like that very much Dan.”

As Dan gathered his things to leave and turned away after bidding him farewell, he stopped in his tracks.

“Phil?” Dan turned back around and Phil looked up at him, raising his eyebrow. “When you laugh, your tongue, it pokes through your teeth.”

 _It does?_ Phil wondered to himself and blushed looking down.

“Small details Phil. Small details,” Dan spoke. With that, he left Phil alone, in the coffee shop with the book that held the coffee shop drawings that brought them together.


End file.
